


Stay with Me

by meowsaidmaya



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Developing Relationship, Hiding things, M/M, Romance?, Some angst, Worry, hon hon, i don't like spoilers in tags, medical health, mental health, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:52:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowsaidmaya/pseuds/meowsaidmaya
Summary: "Skating…yeah, that’s what I was doing, I was skating…The sounds of a crowd filled his ears, of cheering, of skates scraping the ice, of a sudden absence as they left it, flying through the air then…nothing. Silence."A year after an accident on the ice, Victor and Yuuri start to develop their unusual and unexpected relationship.......Basically its a serious fic that will diverge because I've changed one pretty big thing, but will be completely realistic in its divergence. It follows Viktors POV so we can see whats really going on behind that impassive face of his.





	1. A Short Prologue

Eyes opened up wearily to the sight of bright white ceiling tiles, light coming in from the window blinding the skater after being closed off and in the dark for hours. He groaned quietly at the sudden pain, squinting his eyes almost shut before moving a heavy, numb arm to shield from the sunlight. While waiting for his eyes to adjust, he tried to discern exactly where he was.

He knew he wasn’t home, if he was the blackout curtains he owned would have kept the room dark and he’d be sunken in his soft mattress, not the firm one that was currently under him.

_If I’m not home then where am I?_

He tried to think, tried to get his mind working but it felt as though a fog was covering him. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t remember the events of the last 24 hours. The memories replaced by white smoke.

 _Skating…yeah, that’s what I was doing, I was skating…_ The sounds of a crowd filled his ears, of cheering, of skates scraping the ice, of a sudden absence as they left it, flying through the air then…nothing. Silence.

As he struggled to remember what lead him to this strange room, his body slowly began to follow his mind to consciousness. A dull pain grew in his ankle, along the joints of his legs, in the shoulder that was shielding his eyes, and finally on his opposite hand.

He began to register the remainder of the room, white and clinical. He noticed the window that had momentarily blinded him, then a chair laden with a dark coat and surrounded by his skating bags and more than _1…2…3…4 cups of coffee_? Eyes trailed to the windowed door a curtain drawn over it allowing only faint shadows of people walking past, then to the machine next to his bed.

It was quiet, emitting a soft steady beep he didn’t realize he had tuned out. He followed the wire coming from the machine down to his right index finger where the heart monitor was gently clamped.

 _Oh no,_ slow realization dawned on him as he registered the IV in the same hand just above the monitor.

 _Oh no, no, no._ The beeping increased as all traces of sleep left his mind and body. He knew where he was, and while he still could not remember exactly how he got there, he knew that something had gone terribly wrong during his last competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I don't like spoilers in my tags (I'm tired of major plot points being spoiled for me in the tags...sigh), but this prologue was mild enough so that it shouldn't cause any triggers, but things will get more serious as full chapters come out. So keep that in mind if you decide to continue reading this fic.
> 
> Also the chapter wont be nearly as short as this (dang, how would anything get done if it was?) This was just the prologue, just something to give you a little taste of whats to come~


	2. Stammi Vicino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAKE SURE YOU RE_READ THIS CHAPTER!! Ok, so I completely re-wrote this chapter. The official first chapter, it was originally called 'a beginning of something new' (such a dumb title). Everything in it is completely different, so if your one of the few people who started reading right after I began this fic (before June 20th, 2017) you will need to re-read this and get caught up to speed.

A tall, silver haired man looked down at another beneath him, closed eyes, slightly mumbling, and smelling heavily of champagne. He had carried the man all the way back to his room, realizing that the moment the black-haired man stopped being able to stand was a good moment to retire for the night. For both. He had to admit, the younger man did an incredible job keeping both his liquor and his balance throughout the night, though the same couldn’t be said about his clothes.

And now the man was passed out on the bed of a hotel room, two arms straddling his shoulders as the same silver head hovered just and arms length away. Piercingly blue eyes moved to look over the tanned and incredibly toned body that peaked through the half open button down shirt. It was a shame neither of them had been soberer, the man lamented. One look at those bare thighs and the abs sent sparks of lust flying through his eyes, making them more alive than they had in years.

No, this was as far as the night would progress, ending with a drop off and nothing more. No matter how much more he desired. He shook his head, fine hair swishing from side to side, reflecting the feint light of the moon from the window making it glow.

Had he been awake, the darker man would have thought it all a dream to have the ice skating living legend hovering above him in bed. But, alas he was not.

The skater took one last look before pulling away, the moment was brief, having just disentangled himself from the man as he half carried half supported him to his room. Taking in the red face, the parted lips faintly mumbling incoherently, and a soft hand acting as though it was still entangled in the silver hair it had been earlier. He chuckled, it was a sight he wanted to see again, and by the way the night had turned out, one he anticipated he would.

The Japanese man had danced quite literally right into his life, proclaimed his wish to be with him, and pulled him down the rabbit hole with as much force as he had pulled him down onto the bed moments ago.

They were to meet again, that was certain.

But how to contact him? This had been the first night they had ever spoken, and none of it was about phone numbers. Surely, he couldn't ask either of their coaches. While he was known to be rather eccentric and tactless on more than one occasion, even he could recognize it was a low blow.

His hand reached for the phone he had placed upon the table along with the darker man’s glasses, but quickly he realized that he had no way to get through the password lock to leave is number. Though the phones case was adorable, with mini poodles printed across it, and the screen saver of a miniature poodle nearly made him die right on the spot.

He tried looking around for a note pad, but not wanting to wake the sleeping beauty, and being quite tipsy himself, finally gave up looking after a few minutes passed.

Well, crap. He had no idea how they were to get into contact again. Crazy ideas flittered through his addled mind. Writing on the man's forearm ‘call me’ with a phone number, or his handle, or even ‘My name is Viktor Nikiforov and I am your soulmate’ came to mind. That last one, while being hilarious, probably would send more confusion and detract from his goal.

Though all was in vein when he realized the pen he kept in his jacket pocket had dislodged itself during the festivities would stairs. Scratch that plan, or he would if he had a pen.

He wandered into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him so the only sound to be heard was that of the electronic lock clicking back into place.

There must a pen and paper _somewhere_ in his room, he usually packed spares as he was often pulled over for an autograph, especially during skating events.

He unlocked his room, plugged his phone in, and went to grabbed some water and asprin before searching. The man was passed out and would be for quite a few hours, no need to rush. Ah, damn. He should have left something on the bedside table for him, no doubt his hangover going to be significantly more unpleasant than Viktor’s own.

Well, too late now, not like he has the keys anymore to get back into the room anyway. Unless he slid it under the door with his number, but even he would think it sketchy to receive unmarked pills along with a phone number under the door.

He flopped onto the bed, still mostly clothed in the same suit he was in hours ago, and decided to wait for him to sober up a little more before heading back out.

Opening up his photos, he browsed through them from that night. There really were some incredible ones. Not to mention the photos his friends had sent over to him. To think a man could be so flexible and so good at pole dancing. Earlier he had to hide how riled up the sight had made him, but now he had the privacy of his room.

‘Of course,’ he exclaimed a short while later as another pic was sent over to him through IG. He opened up the app and hit the profile search bar.

Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too many fake accounts and he could find the right one. After a bit of fenagling, he gawked at how after 5 years there were only 10 posts.

But it was also the only social media the man had, and he realized that he could not remember at all what his room number was. So, he would have to make do.

He sent over a DM and returned to gazing at the photos. He landed on one that had the young Japanese man with glasses askew, dark brown hair tussled, and articles of clothing missing. The man was propped with his arms around Viktor’s own shoulders. Forever immortalizing the true moment that his world changed.

The moment Yuuri Katsuki asked Viktor to be his coach.

“Be my coach, Viktor!”

\------

It had been months since he last heard those four words, though it was not the first time since that December that Viktor had thought about them.

Oh boy, did Viktor think about them and the individual who had slurred them out in a drunken haze. He had thought about them later that night, the next morning, a month later, for a whole week after, then another month and then another.

Now it was May, and four simple words had slipped into the dreams of the Russian who had sprawled himself along a couch. Rubbing his eyes, he searched around for his phone that had mysteriously disappeared after he nodded off.

………Success!

Viktor had managed to slide it out from far under the couch without rising from his seat, or changing his position. He returned back to his upright position, winded a little as the contortion he performed as he twisted himself to save his phone constricted his lungs just a little too much. But it was all worth it if he could prove that his moments of laziness knew no bounds.

Prove it to… well an empty room. Perhaps to his poodle, but she was turned away from him, laying in her bed.

Well jeez, now no one would know.

Indeed, because Viktor lived alone with his poodle. In an empty apartment, an almost empty apartment as he had his best friend recovering form jet lag in his bedroom, but in normal circumstances, alone.

It had never bothered him before, after all he could bring back as many lovers as he wanted, fanboy over his favourite shows and celebrities, and destroy as many dinners as he pleased (or not so pleased when it came to food). Yet he recently found it had begun to do so. Years upon years he had lived alone, as he had declared he would the moment he became an adult. Yet the same solitude that gave him shelter and peace from prying eyes, had steadily become less comforting, and had started to become a source of emptiness each time he pulled out his keys.

It was a strange feeling that he did not like and did not understand at all. But luckily this week he had a friend to share it with, and with that he set aside his thoughts and feelings towards the matter, as he often did, and returned to his phone.

Upon opening it he recalled what he was doing before he fell asleep and what had awoken him causing the words to fly up through to his waking world.

He had received a message on Instagram, or more accurately he had received a reply.

He quickly tapped the name of the Thai skater to open the message and his body sank with what he had read.

‘I don’t think he’s even read it. But still, you shouldn’t talk with him right now.’

Why, though. Why did Phitchit want to keep him away? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He never hurt the boy, or at least he didn’t think he did. All Viktor wanted to know was why he hadn’t responded, or even read the message Viktor had sent so long ago.

Viktor wanted to argue, wanted to demand why the skater had pushed him away so brazenly, so harshly just for being concerned. But he swept the emotions aside. Viktor hardly knew the two of them, his message must have been weird, after all it’s not often that multi god medalists in figure skating would contact another skater when they had had zero contact before.

‘why? is everything all right?’

A long pause, a couple of minutes passed and Viktor returned to searching through Phitchit’s Instagram as he had done before falling asleep. Here and there he would find bits and pieces of Yuuri, the reason Viktor was stalking through Thai man’s photos to begin with. Notorious for being shy, and social media inept, most of Yuuri’s photos were devoid of himself. The time he was on Phitchit’s posts, he was often looking away from the camera or of a hand trying to physically push it away. Though sometimes Viktor would find absolute gems.

The photo he was looking at now was one of them. It was from last year, relatively off-season for skaters making it the perfect time to relax. In the photo, relaxing was exactly what was happening. It was of a young Japanese man asleep with a miniature poodle curled in his arms, tagged with ‘Yuuri and Vicchan! So Cuuuuute~’

He looked so peaceful, so beautiful the way his jet-black hair stuck up in a few places and fell into his eyes. Eyes that held such long eyelashes they seemed to extend for miles and Viktor wished to feel those lashes flutter against him instead of the curly fur in the photo. An expression Viktor wished he could see in person, contented and wrapped around his own torso with sheets sprawled across the bed after an evening of fun.

He searched through to another post, one of the same man but this time on the ice in what looked like the finishing pose of an old skate routine past combined. The photo this time was taken at the perfect moment, while the emotions and feelings of the routine still coursed through the body and the reality of the world yet to return.

Viktor took in the sight, face sweaty, mouth slightly ajar, and dark, brown eyes swirling with emotion. Eyes that merged with his previous fantasy, eyes that slowly opened past the mile-long lashes to stare into Victors own blue ones. His hand brushing against slightly sweat dampened skin to cup his face which was moving closer and closer. Pink lips parting-

Then just as he had started to give in to his fantasy, his phone pinged again.

‘he’s still sensitive about what happened, and I think that you of all people talking to him would just work him up more than necessary.’

Another pause, this time shorter.

‘He needs time.’

Time.

Time.

Hadn’t he given enough time?

He had seen what happened on TV a few months ago, but even though concussions prevented him from skating for a little while, they didn’t prevent him from preparing for the next season.

Viktor grumbled at how quickly his mood had dropped, then jumped as a voice spoke in his ear.

“I see you finally graduating from stalking in the dark to actual contact.”

“Chris! What the- you surprised me” Viktor turned, to see his best friend smirking at him. His blonde well slept in and sticking out in all sorts of places. Chris ran his hand through it, yawning as he did so.

“Though, technically it is dark out now. How long did I sleep?”

Viktor ran his hand through his own fine hair subconsciously, remembering that he too, had woken not so long ago.

“Practically the whole day, I ordered some take out at 7, but you didn’t wake up so I put it in the fridge and waited.”

“Doesn’t look like you waited to me” He mused waiving a hand at the phone still in Viktor’s own as he turned to move toward the kitchen.

He didn’t reply, but instead stretched, scratched his poodle on her head and followed Chris into the kitchen.

He recounted the conversation, or really the exchange he had with Phitchit just minutes prior and agreed wholeheartedly that it was an odd response to say the least. To say the most, it was a warning to stay away, one that Viktor didn’t like the thought of.

But it was soon driven from his mind by a certain curly haired critter trying to swipe some of his dinner.  “Makkachin!!!”

What was left of the evening flew by in fits of laughter, Makkachin being properly fed, and the sound of a wine bottle being opened as Chris re-enacted how he had managed to get nearly all the patrons at the airport bar wasted when his layover flight was cancelled the night before.

“Speaking of unsteady legs, how’s your ankle doing?”

“Better, is more of a dull pain by now but I still can’t go on the ice.” Viktor subconsciously circled the ankle in question, a habit he had developed to keep it moving and making sure everything moved as it should. “Every time I visit the rink Yakov practically chases me out, saying I should be at the gym doing exercises if I can’t stay still.”

Viktor sighed. How he longed for the ice, to feel its bumps and ridges under his feet from past skaters, hear the scratching as blade scraped along it, watch as he kicked up bits of snow from his footwork.

“Take your time, take your time! If you want to move, we can always take this to the bedroom~” Chris winked, mouth forming a playful smirk as he motioned the wine he was holding towards Viktor.

It was a joke and they both knew it, but being the best friend he was Viktor just couldn’t stand by and miss the opportunity.

He shot his hand to his mouth in a feint gasp, “Christophe! How scandalous! You have a boyfriend!” A smirk rivaling the blondes grew on his face as he pulled out his phone once more. “Of course, I must tell him about this immediately.”

And with that the night drew on, Chris grabbing at the phone as Viktor held it far away, teasing that his love life was over as he ACTUALLY video called Chris’ boyfriend. The night finally reaching its conclusion as the three of them finished talking, and the two men adjourned to the bedroom for very platonic sleep, though not without a gentle booty grab.

A grab that Viktor wished had been from a certain black haired, brown eyed man instead. A grab that he desired to be drawn from the real life Yuuri than the one that appeared in his fantasies.

\----

It was July and Viktor was kicking at the ice, frustrated.

Why couldn’t he get this right? Why couldn’t he feel the music? Why couldn’t he think of the rest of the skate?

“Vitya! That kick better not be because of your ankle!”

The shout of his coach echoed across the ice, causing a few of his rink mates to turn their heads in his direction in curiosity.

“Not at all” He called back. “I was just think how we’re gonna need to get the Zamboni out here soon!”

He flashed his usual award smile, hoping it would get Yakov of his back and hide the real reason why he had so mercilessly stabbed the ice with his toe.

He hadn’t needed help with a program since his time in juniors, and he was afraid to admit he might be losing his edge. To admit that his time to retire was coming as it had already come for so many other skaters younger than he.

Viktor wasn’t losing his edge, just his inspiration and passion. He had hoped to coach for Yuuri this season and had thousands of ideas for Yuuri’s skates, but none that seemed right as his own.

But now as time moved by with the season fast approaching and without so much as an ounce of contact from Yuuri or Phitchit, Viktor felt at a loss. He felt almost abandoned. Teased and tantalized by the young, beautiful man that moved so elegantly and erotically, then left out to dry.

Now he was stressed because he couldn’t put together his free skate. His short program was finished, sort of, well he had put together enough of the choreography that all was left was to tweak it here and there, but his free was another story. He had poured over music to find something that could form a theme with his short program, then poured over papers and papers of possible ideas. All of them were good but none of them had his flair. None of them had anything that could surprise the audience like his past programs could.

His heart just wasn’t into it.

Later that night Viktor dozed on his couch, Pandora flicking from song to song, hoping that if he listened long enough he could find some hidden gem and choreograph something incredible.

Figures flitted through his mind against the insides of his eyelids dancing made up routines to each song that played. They jumped, twirled, glided, but nothing they did was enrapturing. He allowed himself to relax after a while simply watching the figures rather than scrutinizing them. Even if they were nameless shadows, they had been competing in his mind’s eye for the winning performance for the past hour. Even shadows need a break.

As time passed the number of figures had slowly died down to one. He danced around alone and solemnly to an Italian aria. Even without translation, the song dripped with longing, the figure dripping with it as well, bare skinned arms reaching out and wrapping in on itself. Black hair being thrown around as his body moved with a quiet desperation.

The man skated closer arms stretching out to touch him, brown eyes piercing through him, and just as Viktor reached out a hand, he vanished. Only the echo of the song remained as a last trace of the Japanese skater.

Viktor had opened his eyes to find himself in his living room, back slightly hunched as his arm stretched out before him towards a figure who had long disappeared.

I have it bad, he lamented. A quick search of the song and its translation had solidified the thought. But at least now he had his inspiration back.

“Stammi Vicino, it’s a perfect fit for me, isn’t it?”

\-------

Viktor had convinced himself that he wouldn’t allow himself to get caught up with using Yuuri as inspiration for his free skate. Convinced himself that the shadows of the man that he chased over the ice wouldn’t change him, would make him yearn for him more.

He was wrong.

Now, Viktor was standing once again at the top of the podium, gold medal weighing heavier on his chest that it ever had before.

Yuuri should be here. Yuuri should have competed. Yuuri should have made it to the Grand Prix Finals. Yuuri should have made it to Worlds. Yuuri should have been the one to wear gold. And Viktor, Viktor should have been at the side of the rink, ready to congratulate him, ready to embrace him in his arms.

He knew Yuuri could have done it too. Over the course of the skating season, he had steadily poured over the Japanese skaters past routines. He had watched each and every one, and realized that his ranking for last place at Sochi was not because of his skill.

No, Viktor had come to realize that the man was an exceptional skater. Each time he stepped onto the ice he poured every ounce of his being out for the world to see. His skates were clean, his step sequences beautiful, his jumps, though not very competitive, were flawless. Which was why seeing his skates at the end of the previous season hurt Viktor to the core.

Leading up to the Sochi GPF, Yuuri’s routine was beautiful, a few touches here and there on jumps, but they conveyed so much emotion you couldn’t help but lose yourself in. However, he could tell that something serious had happened. Yuuri’s emotions were all over the place during his free skate, and where he was before calm, his face and body had become contorted with misery.

Viktor had learned that Yuuri lost his dog the same day. No wonder he tanked, no wonder he drank, no wonder he didn’t respond right after the banquet, no wonder he needed time.

Watching the following skates as they happened in real time last year was difficult, but now seeing them again after all this time, they were excruciating. Yuuri had flat out omitted bits and pieces of the routines that took him to finals, as though he could no longer remember what they were. He kept losing his place in the songs, kept missing the synchronization, and at the Japanese National Finals it resulted in him jumping and falling with a crack.

But Viktor still didn’t know what had stopped Yuuri from returning. It wasn’t the concussion, as his coach stated it was minor enough for him to continue skating. Even if Viktor’s own poodle, Makkachin, died, it wouldn’t stop him returning to the ice.

No, it must be something else, but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t think of why. Because even though he had spent hours, days, searching for more information of Yuuri, the skater still eluded him. No social media, he always danced around topics pertaining to personal life and feelings in interviews, and he always kept to himself, hidden away during competitions. The only glimpses Viktor had, were his performances, but while they had displayed such strong emotion, they could not in words describe who Yuuri was as a person.

It frustrated Viktor to no end, and left him longing.

\----

He was back in Sochi and won gold for Russia, but this time he didn’t take part in the Olympic famous after parties.

\----

It was April, Viktor now had his fifth consecutive gold medal from worlds, and it was worth nothing to him. He had skated the same routine for 10 months, had skated it in from of the whole world and had won with it over and over again.

Yet it still never reached him.

In the language they shared, Yuuri had not received the message. Had not seen his request for contact. Had not seen what Yuuri had done to him.

A year later, and what began as sexual attraction had morphed into emotional pinning. All because Yuuri would not speak to him.

Viktor tried, he messaged Yuuri, talked to his coach, messaged his friend, and talked with just about everyone who competed with him. But he was still unsuccessful. In his last efforts, he had bared his heart on the ice for Yuuri, praying he would see his message and respond.

And just when it was all starting to become too much, just as Viktor’s pinning was turning to anger, just as he was about to give up on Yuuri forever, he received his answer.

It came as a video, uploaded early that morning and sent over to him by Chris.

It was a video of a man in black and blue training clothes moving across the ice. A man with jet black hair. A man with deep chocolate brown eyes. And he was replying with the same routine Viktor had been sending him.

Stammi Vicino echoed in Viktor’s apartment, but this time distant and muted from a poor-quality camera mic, the video shaking and struggling to keep the skater in focus as he moved in and out of frame.

But to Viktor, the video and sound were crystal clear. To Viktor, the message still came through. It was saddest and most beautiful skate he had ever seen. The man’s performance filled with sorrow, with a plea for forgiveness, with a need to once again be close.

He had gotten Viktor’s message, and he felt his heart flutter to life.

Yuuri was back. He was back and he wanted Viktor. He was back and Viktor _knew_ where he was.

He wasted no time packing that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... So chapter one completely replaced over a month later. What I had initially written just wasn't satisfying and was posted way too early, since I didnt have any of the story planned out at all, and was completely stuck on chapter 2...
> 
> In this month I've laid out how the story will progress and end, a number of scenes that will be scattered here and there, and how i'm going to make Stay With Me flow well and with few loopholes. I'm also not used to writing characters like Viktor, so I wanted to try and make him more 'real' than he was before. 
> 
> This is the only time I'm going to completely re-write a chapter, now that I know what I want and put together dozens of pages of notes on this fic, I can finally move forward onto the second chapter.
> 
> This chapter dated June 20, 2017.


	3. Interlude: Silver

It had always followed him.

  
Since he could remember, it had always been there lurking. Creeping around every corner, watching his every move, his every action, his every thought.  
It latched onto every fear and worry he had, and grew bigger.

Bigger, larger, stronger.

Closer.

Sometimes he wouldn’t notice its growth. Sometimes it would remain unchanging for years. Becoming something predictable, something that he could learn to manage and control. Other times it would double in size and grow closer to him. And suddenly that shadow in the corner was the shadow that sat two seats away.

And when he had gotten used to it, suddenly it was the shadow that loomed behind him, inches away.

And when he had gotten used to that, it suddenly grew again, this time reaching out to touch him.

It was like nothing he had felt before. And it was nothing he could ever truly describe.

Sometimes it would wrap itself around his chest, crushing and cold. Other times it would caress his arms, making everything numb.

It would hang off his shoulders, whispering lies into his ears. It would grab at his legs, restraining him to one spot for days. It would cover his eyes, hiding things from him. It would slither around his throat, preventing words or even a breath from escaping.

It was no longer a shadow, but a being, a monster that was real and dark and terrifying.

It was a being that had ripped him from everything and everyone he had loved.

It was a being that had taken skating from him.

He used to be able to escape it while on the ice. He would watch as it chased behind him, too slow to keep up. Too weak to step across the ice. But now it didn’t even budge when his blade hit the surface.

No matter how fast he skated, it was there dragging him behind. No matter how complicated he made his sequences to kick it away it remained attached and tied his legs together. No matter what he did it would drag him down further and further. Yanking him from the air the moment his feet left the ice to jump.

It left him crashing to the ice. It left him shattered on its cold, hard, unforgiving surface. It left him trapped with no release. It left no way out.

And nothing could stop it.

Everything he tried would just change its method of attack. It would cause everything to intensify around him, burning, searing, excruciating. Then he would try again, and it would allow him the visage of happiness while digging into his mind dumping barrels of poison into it. Again he tried, and it left him numb. Left everything heavy and suffocating, as it grew and began to fuse itself within his body. Again he struggled, and it would give him visions of every object he would look at, as it began to fuse itself within his mind.

It would continue to force itself in, until one day he found he had no energy left to try any longer, and just accepted his fate.

And then, just as he had given up, just as he had laid exhausted, sore, and pained, he saw something flash bright before his eyes, white and gray and reflective.

Something that had managed to pierce its way through to him, shining, giving him just enough light to cause the monster to retreat just an inch. Something that told him to hold onto that very last piece of him that hadn’t been taken.

It was something that caused him to notice that same silver glint in the corner of his room.

It was the color that had reflected in the blades of his skates.

It was the color that had once surrounded his walls and given him strength and happiness.

It was the color that had left him in awe.

The color that had brought him to ice skating all those years ago.

And it was the very same color that would give him strength again.

No matter how small or meager.

He would use it to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you have read the updated version of the previous chapter (CH 2) which I re-wrote on 6/20/17. It's completely different than the first version, and if you haven't read the new version, you may be lost when the next chapter comes out.
> 
> So if you haven't noticed, I'll be posting a series of shorts or 'interludes' between each major chapter. The next major chapter will be up and out tomorrow, as it would be unfair to tease you guys with something so short.
> 
> But yeah, i'm having a lot of fun putting together this story, and while I have moved very slowly updating these two chapters, it was because I had re-written a LOT and actually flushed out how i want this story to progress.
> 
> Hopefully this means that I'll update more frequently, if not, be patient with me. Its my first full blown fanfiction :) 7/26


	4. Anomalies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor finally see's the man he's been pinning for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you have read the updated version of the previous major chapter, Stammi Vicino (CH 2), which I re-wrote on 6/20/17. It's completely different than the first version, and if you haven't read the new version, you'll be confused with the events and style of this chapter.

Viktor swirled with an energy he felt he hadn’t had in years.

I had started in his chest, just a pinprick at first, then grew to the size of a basketball. Then swelled to the size of an elephant when he caught the words Ice Castle Hasetsu on the rink side banner of the video that ignited it all.

From there it was an easy search, from past interviews and info columns he knew Yuuri’s family owned a hot spring and he grew up skating at a local rink. Guess how many ice rinks and hot spring inns the small town of Hasetsu held. Just one. One rink, one hot spring.

In an instant, a single room was reserved for a month and a plane ticket bought for one plus a pet, ready to board in a few short hours.

Viktor had briefly been held up by his coach right before entering the airport, having made the mistake of calling him for help with shipping some boxes to Japan. He spoke rapidly on the phone, not giving Yakov even a second to respond as lists of things he needed to pack and bring ran through his mind.

It was only after the old man had caught up to him at the terminal drop off that he got a moment to speak, though even that was not an easy feat as he was still too flabbergasted by Viktor.At long last Yakov finally yelled it out, as he did the majority of the time he spent with his students.

“If you walk away now, you can never come back!”

Come back? Oh, Viktor had never intended to come back to begin with, he didn’t intend to come back last year and now that he has finally been called upon, he didn't intend to do so again.

He had turned and walked back to his coach, the snow crunching beneath his feet, each sound a testament to his final moments with Yakov, his final moments in St Petersburg, his final moments as a competitor.

Yakov’s face was priceless and one Viktor wished he could have recorded. But he was too busy in the moment being dramatic and making his intentions all too clear.

“Dasvidanya.”

And with a peck on the cheek and a smirk, he had whipped right around and walked away.

That moment had felt so amazing. It was just like in a movie, and it replayed in Viktor’s head as he boarded his flight grinning at how well it turned out. For him that is.

\-----

While flying first was quite the luxury, it was still a terribly long flight and after the first two hours Viktor was already antsy for it to be over. He never had a problem sleeping on planes before as he usually slept through them, but this time he was still too full of excitement to calm himself down.

What will he say to Yuuri when he sees him again? Maybe he will be at the inn helping his family. Maybe Viktor will open the front door and see Yuuri broom in hand sweeping the lobby. Or he will be at the counter manning the checkins. He will look up and brown eyes will widen in shock as Viktor goes up to him and says...

In that moment, the gravity of what he did finally crashed down onto him.

After watching a single video, he had dropped everything and was currently flying to Japan to an unaware Yuuri. He hadn't even attempted to contact him, hadn't tried to DM him, hadn't contacted his friends or his coach, hadn't even tried calling his families inn.

In half a day's time, he was going to meet him face to face after a year of no contact and declare himself his coach...

Well, Yuuri did beg him to be his coach, and that video obviously was a call out to him. As Viktor had quickly found out through his research, the skater was rather reserved. He remembered Chris commenting to him that Yuuri always kept to himself whenever they were competing against each other. Which was apparently too bad because he always wanted to meet his dog.

Viktor thought it odd that Chris would bring up Yuuri's dog, but he had brushed it off assuming he meant that he wanted to see photos. After all, Chris often asked Viktor about Makkachin.

He quickly brought himself back to the issue on hand before his mind wandered too far off into a tangent.

What was he going to say to Yuuri?

_Hi Yuuri I saw your video and jumped on a plane to fly thousands of miles to you without telling you anything so I can be your coach so here I am isn't it great?_

Viktor spend a good portion of the flight trying to figure out what to say. At one point he thought of saying it in Japanese and proceeded to purchase the on flight Wi-Fi so he could look up translations. An action which quickly spiraled into Viktor purchasing a Japanese-Russian dictionary and text book, and looking up how to introduce himself in Japanese.

Four hours later and Viktor was no longer thinking of what he was going to say to Yuuri and instead was an hour deep into watching YouTube videos on how lace was made.

Shocked at how much time had passed and clueless to how he ended up watching lace-making videos, he closed his laptop and attempted to sleep.

However, every time he closed his eyes, instead of the darkness of his eyelids, he saw Yuuri. He saw his skating, and imagined his reaction when they would finally meet again.

Normally it was easy for him to fall asleep, he was the type of person who could sleep anywhere any time. All he had to do was close his eyes and he'd be out like a light. Not this time it seemed.

Eventually giving up on any prospect of sleep, he pulled out his laptop and a pair of headphones once more. He had saved the video of Yuuri’s Stammi Vicino to his hard drive, and after ordering a glass of champagne and thanking the flight attendant he settled himself down in his chair and pressed play.

It was perhaps the hundredth time Viktor had re-watched the video in the last 8 hours. Even if Viktor hadn’t looked up the translation of the song, he would still have understood every word simply through the movements and emotions of Yuuri’s body.

Black covered arms reached out for a voice, tear stained and far away, tracing lines to the heavens begging why he was left on his own. A spin, sharp and strong, blade acting like a knife ready to cut away anyone who comes near. Yet yearning for someone to stay close.

Feet desperately moving and overlapping each other desperate to keep up. Hands pulling in an unseen body, asking them to come closer. Expression full of melancholy affection, yet resigned sadness, hoping it’s not too late.

The story of Viktor’s skate of the routine had been that of pining for someone who had run away and struggling to find them again. Yuuri’s story was that of anguish, of building walls, of finding someone who filled him with infatuation. Of resenting those feelings, trying to push away, then realizing he never wants to be apart. Of struggling to find them and tear down the walls he had put up. It was a story of breaking barriers and a calling out for a second chance.

Yuuri would easily have won gold with the routine, might have even beaten Viktor’s own score, even without the quad jumps. Simply through the artistry, skill and emotion alone.

And that aggravated him. How could the same man be able to practically surpass him in his own skate (without any high difficulty jumps) and NOT have any gold medals?

HOW?!

Viktor clenched and unclenched his fists, downed the last of his champagne, and ordered another.

\-----

Blue eyes squinted up at characters, some simple with one or two lines, some complex with well over dozens of lines and curves neatly squished into filling the same amount of space.

Viktor was thankful of his purchase for the Japanese dictionary as he exited his flight, and even more grateful when the characters no longer had English translations below themthe farther Viktor traveled from the city.

He had watched with Makkachin as skyscrapers melted into suburbs, which melted into rice fields, which finally to the ocean as the two struggled to navigate trains, buses, and taxis. With the sleepy town of Hatestu being so far away from any airports, it was no wonder Yuuri left it to pursue his skating career in the long term. Though Viktor did his best to memorize the right signs and roadways that he would be traveling t and fro with Yuuri during the next skating season.

Eventually the last taxi of his journey slowed, the tires crunching slightly in the snow as it drove under what must normally have been an ornate gateway, but whose detailing was currently obscured by a thick layer of snow.

As the car rocked to a stop he spied a short, plump woman sprinkling salt across a freshly shoveled pathway, likely melt any remaining trace of the previous snowfall. She looked up, curious about the car at first, but once she saw Viktor, and was pounced on my Makkachin, her eyes lit up saying what sounded like greetings and cooing’s in her native tongue. After vigorously fluffing up the poodle until he was satisfied with the attention, she turned to Viktor grabbed his warm hand in her cold one and shook it just as vigorously, going on in Japanese.

Viktor had caught a few words like hello! And welcome! And Yuuri! After a very chopped up and heavily accented introduction, the woman understood that he did not speak Japanese at all.

Apparently, she was in a similar boat, barely being able to speak English herself. But after some struggling and a few very poor Google translations they were finally able to pay the cab driver, check Viktor in, and work out a way to get him into as large a room as possible.

Viktor didn't mind being so lost in translation, since he already traveled the world year round for his skating he had grown quite adept at communication through non-verbal means. By the time he had started his visit to the hot spring in the hotel he had learned quite a bit.

First he learned that the woman's name was Hiroko and that she was Yuuri's mother. He met Yuuri's father Toshiya along the way, and found that both Yuuri and his sister were at the store right now.

He learned the family loved Makkachin and used to have a poodle themselves, which he assumed was the same dog that had died the year previously when caught the faint glisten in Hiroko's eyes as she had so expertly attached a lead and harness on Makkachin and offered to take him on a walk.

As Hiroko and Makkachin went out back into the snow, Toshiya gave him a tour of the inn. Which Viktor had quickly realized was nothing like the modern hotel he was in last time he visited Japan, and certainly nothing like the image he had in his mind so many hours ago on that long, long flight.

Instead, it was a fully traditional Japanese inn and hot spring combined. It took some patience explaining for Viktor to realize that shoes were taken off and left at the Genkan, which was an area just inside of the door way which was littered in various shoes, before officially stepping up onto the wooden floor of the building.

Guests ad their meals and spent their free time in an open room where various older patrons were already seated eating, drinking, and watching a local soccer game on a screen mounted at the wall. Viktor could imagine Yuuri, Makkachin and he huddled down at one of the tables laughing and watching figure skating. Where they would wake up every morning, lunch and dinner and eat together, because that's where everyone ate.

They moved along and Viktor smiled as he imagined washing themselves off after training sessions, rubbing shampoo into Yuuri's black locks before retiring to soak in the hot springs. Just stepping momentarily into the bathing area he felt immediately relaxed despite the other bare men that he would share it with.

The water looked so tempting, in one corner a cherry tree's petals were gently falling down into the water along with a sprinkling of snow as he realized that the bath was outside. Yet he could feel himself starting to sweat a little despite the weather because of the natural steam that rose from the spring.

He began to strip, to the surprise of Toshiya who guided him back toward the changing area and gave him a towel and a change of clothes for when he finished. Before the man left Viktor to himself, he had stopped and said something in a voice so gentle Viktor almost didn't catch it.

"You help my Yuuri, you make him strong again. Thank you. Everyone here...Thank you. Arigato gozaimashita." He then bowed and Viktor just blinked back at him.

"Ah..." He tried to wrack his brain for the Japanese translation, but thought it a poor time to pull out his phone, so he settled with English. "You're welcome" A pause, then "I promise I will make him strong again and he will skate better than he ever has before."

Toshiya looked back up to him beaming, cheeks a little pink, and eyes glistening ever so slightly. "We have great debt. Please, anything you need, we help you."

Viktor nodded, and satisfied Toshiya turned away and left as another employee ducked his head inside the changing room and called for him.

He removed his clothes, washed away the smell of stale airplane air and a day's worth of travel, and lowered himself into the hot spring bath.

It felt amazing, he didn't realize how much his back and neck were sore from sitting for so long until he felt the tension leave his body. Yes, this will be a perfect way to relax and rejuvenate the body after training with Yuuri all day.

Yuuri.

What had Toshiya meant? At first Viktor had assumed he was thanking him for deciding to become his coach, but after seeing that look on his face he wasn't so sure. It wasn't a look of just gratitude but of something deeper than that.

He held his hand by his chin, pointer finger absentmindedly tapping his cheek gently.

Toshiya hadn't just thanked him either, he said they had a debt. Surely not a debt to him, he hadn't even started coaching yet. Perhaps they meant the payment? Were they worried about how much a 5 time world champion would charge?

On that matter, what WOULD Viktor charge?

He knew Yakov's fees, but the man was a coaching legend and while Viktor had the best skating repertoire in the world, he had absolutely zero credentials when it came to being a coach.

Once again he cursed himself for never thinking things through before acting on them. In reality he should have had this worked out a year ago when he was ready to coach Yuuri after the skating season had ended. The longer it had taken for Yuuri to reply after the banquet however, the less Viktor had thought about such trifling information as money.

What else had he forgotten? He needed Yuuri's skating history, his diet and fitness regimens, his list of jumps he can consistently complete. He needed a rink with practice time carved out just for them. Would they be able to skate at the same rink the video was taken at? Would Yuuri need to update his ice skates? How old were they? They can't be that old, but maybe Yuuri's skate size hadn't changed much from his teenage years. Even if they weren't old, would they be able to handle Viktor's training? Yuuri did have a nasty fall in them among many others the year prior, did the blades have any fractures? How was he certain his skates wouldn't cause Yuuri to fall again and force him to retire? What if-?

No, he took a deep breath, everything was going to be fine. Yuuri has been skating for too long to disregard his own skates, not to mention Celestino, his previous coach, would have made sure they were keep in good shape.

He will just get the rest of what he needs when he talks to Yuuri, there is no need to get worked up when everything can be and will be resolved in a short while once he see's Yuuri again.

He just didn't expect to see Yuuri right that moment. Across the bath. Fully clothed. Winter coat unzipped and sagging of his shoulders as he panted from bursting in so suddenly.

Yuuri gaped, and Viktor sat taking him in for a moment. He furrowed his brow and squinted a little, trying to see past the fog that was quickly consuming Yuuri's glasses. Though even with the thick film covering half his face it was still evident that the whole scene left the poor man in shock.

After what felt like an eternity Yuuri finally spoke, voice nearly a whisper. What is he doing here? Of course Viktor thought that would be a simple answer since it was Yuuri who had asked him to come to begin with.

Though as anyone in shock would ask that question, Viktor decided to provide him with an answer.

An answer, all words and drafts vanished from his mind. Hours and hours of time spent on that plane forgotten as he suddenly found himself speechless. He rose from his seated position slowly, taking the time to try and recover some semblance of speech.

When nothing happened, he went back to his trusty method of dealing with things. Wing it.

So he flung out his arm, smiled, declared himself Yuuri's coach and winked.

Yuuri just stared at him, and Viktor became increasingly aware that he was wearing absolutely nothing. There he stood, buck naked arm, flung out dramatically. A year. It had been OVER a year since they saw or spoke and this was to be their reunion.

It was not what he had imagined.

Neither was the expletive that bellowed from the younger man before his legs gave way and he slumped against the wall.

The next few moments were of Viktor standing in shock as to what had happened as he watched Toshiya rush in, panicked from the sound of Yuuri’s yell which had clearly been audible throughout the inn. He was speaking in quick fire Japanese, opposed to Yuuri whose voice was slow and a little shaky as he just stared back at Viktor.

Quickly enough, Toshiya’s look of concern melted into that of fold exasperation at his son.

“Please forgive my son, you were a big shock.”

He had turned and stood toward Viktor giving him a small bow. “Please continue to enjoy your bath.” He motioned back to the water, but Viktor had waited long enough, now that he had finally seen the man who had pervaded his dreams he didn’t want to be away a moment longer.

“No, not at all. I admit I gave no warning that I was coming here.” He peered over at Yuuri who was slowly standing up starting to get over the shock. “If you had shown up in my house out of the blue I’d probably be surprised too.”

He chuckled, surprising was what he did best, and gave Yuuri a wink. He had made his way closer to the two and was stepping out of the water, at the wink Yuuri’s face flushed and he looked down, earning himself an impossible vibrant shade of red as his eyes frantically searched for anywhere else to look.

Viktor looked down… “Oh” he was still naked, he suddenly turned and made his way to the changing room.  “I’ll go change, and then we can talk over dinner about the next season.” He turned back to Yuuri, halfway through the door. “That is, if you will accept my offer to be your coach.”

Of course he would, why else would Viktor be here? But still, in the back of his mind that moment when Yuuri yelled had bothered him. Yuuri gave out a nod, still flushed from his ears to his neck, his father smiling awkwardly as his hand rubbed his sons back.

Once he was alone, Viktor let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

What the hell just happened?

Wasn’t Yuuri supposed to be excited, happy? Instead he had looked almost, devastated.

He didn’t even meet Victors gaze.

“Why?”

The word echoed through his as he ate, not paying attention to what would have been a delicious dish that Yuuri’s mother had placed before him the moment he exited the baths. The only thing to draw him out of his own thoughts was the cold, wet nudge of his poodle against his arm.

Viktor ruffled the soft fur and allowed Makkachin to crawl into his lap, which wasn’t a hard feat as the tables at the inn were so low that everyone sat on mats on the ground instead of chairs.

Viktor yawned, hugged the warm body on top of him and closed his eyes.

\----

At the sound of voices and his name Viktor regained consciousness only to realize that he was laying down. He felt the rise and fall of someone next to him, and turned to snuggle the being, only to regret it instantly when he got a face full of fur. The hairs tickled his nose, causing him to sneeze and he heard the sudden gasps of two other people behind him.

He turned to the sound, seeing the empty plates on the table next to him and realizing that he was hungry, as he usually was after naps, needing the fuel to wake him up again.

Moments later he was fully awake after biting into the juiciest pork cutlet he had ever had before. Viktor could get used to this, no wonder it was Yuuri’s favorite food, though it was quite fatty.

Speaking of fatty food, there had been something that he had needed to say for a while now. He had noticed it earlier when the video of Yuuri skating was posted, but now that the man in question was right in front of him, it was even more obvious.

Yuuri had gained weight, and now Viktor had a sneaking suspicion as to why. Minako, the woman Yuuri was speaking with when Viktor woke up, was commenting on hoe Yuuri was only allowed to eat the dish when he won competitions.

While waiting for the Katsudon, as was the Japanese term for the pork cutlet on rice dish he was eating, he had learned that Minako was once Yuuri’s ballet instructor. By her personality, Viktor had wondered if she had a hand in Yuuri’s ability to pole dance so expertly the prior year. He shifted a tad in his seat, feeling a faint heat build at the memory that flashed before his eyes.

Though the image of Yuuri’s impeccably toned body was replaced with one that was much rounder and less graceful, bringing him back to the matter at hand.

“So Yuuri, have you eaten this Katsudon recently?”

The answer better have been no, but Viktor was not surprised when Yuuri responded with a ‘Yes, very often.’

It only made it worse when Yuuri had said it so unashamedly. Here Viktor was, having just traveled thousands of miles, sat in transit for hours upon hours, for a man who had beaten him at his own routine.

Here he was after a YEAR of waiting for the moment he would get in contact with Viktor to start Yuuri’s coaching.

Here he was after being forced to skate for another year without any soul when he had decided long ago to be Yuuri’s coach.

And what had Yuuri been doing in the meantime? Eating fattening food, and not caring a bit about how much weight he would gain.

Not caring a bit about how it would affect his skating.

Viktor forced himself through the same camera-ready smile he always gave, trying not to let the twitch in his mouth be too visible.

“Why?” He asked. “You haven’t won anything.” Yuuri hadn’t even stepped onto the ice until a few days ago as far as Viktor could see from Yuuri’s figure.

The figure of a piglet.

“With that pig’s body, coaching would be meaningless.” He couldn’t help himself, the words had forced themselves past his lips. Yuuri had stilled, his mouth agape, but Viktor wasn’t done yet. He forbade the wider man from eating the dish again as well as threatened not to coach him unless he lost the extra weight.

Because there was no possible way he would allow Yuuri to skip out on practice because of food. There was no way he would let Yuuri onto the ice unless he had his full strength and flexibility back. No way would he allow Yuuri the chance of injury while Viktor was his coach.

He was confused by Yuuri's reaction. Yuuri's face turned pink and he had physically moved backwards, away from Viktor, mumbling something in Japanese. Viktor would have thought he had gone too far if it wasn't for the gentleness in the man's voice and smile that had creeped onto his face. That and the smirk that had appeared on Minako's own expression.

The small guilt he had felt was quickly wiped away thirty minutes later after Yuuri had placed the very last of Viktor's dozens of boxes into the Russians new room at the inn. Yuuri had worked up a light sweat and was just barely out of breath, voice quiet but heavy with exertion as they spoke about the room. They definitely needed to start training tomorrow.

Though, it wasn't Yuuri's weight that had bothered him the most. It was how Yuuri had acted. Even while he had brought up Viktor's luggage and things, placing them where Viktor directed, he hadn't looked Viktor in the eyes.         

He stared at scalp of the man below him, kneeling and pushing the last box out of the main walkway. His hair looked so fluffy, so full. Jet black and sticking up in a variety of angles.

He needed to touch it, he needed to touch Yuuri. It had been too long since he had held the shorter man in his arms. Too long since they had grasped hands and danced without a care in the world. Too long since he had seen those captivatingly chocolate eyes that now worked desperately to look at anything else.

Viktor knelt down in front of Yuuri.

He needed to see those eyes again.

"Yuuri, tell me everything about you."

His hand rose to Yuuri's head, fingers gently tilting the man's face so that their eyes were locked. Piercing blue searching through the gentle chocolate.

_Where is that man I met that night?_

“What kind of rink do you skate at?”

_Where is that passion I once saw?_

 “What’s in this city?”

_What made you step away from the ice?_

“Is there a girl you like?”

_What chance do I have with you sober?_

“Before we start practicing,”

_Before anything gets in our way,_

Viktor’s other hand slid down Yuuri’s arm desperate to hold it once more.

“Let’s build some trust in our relationship.”

_Let me have a chance._

But instead of beginning the journey toward growing closer as Viktor had wanted, Yuuri flew himself backwards, crawling until his back crashed against the wall in the inns hallway.

Again, the scene did not play out how Viktor had expected.

Neither was the subsequent sprint Yuuri performed into his own bedroom and the shout that came as Viktor tried to say _anything_ to get him out of his room.

Huffing, Viktor returned to his own room, shoulders sagging as he trudged back down the short hallway that seemed miles away from Yuuri.

He flopped onto the floor, narrowly missing the futon that had laid out moments before.

“I don’t understand Makka.”

He hugged her close as she too had flopped down against him.

“He’s a completely different person.”

Sure Viktor had known that Yuuri kept his distance from the other competitors but the man from the banquet was so free and social he assumed Yuuri was only shy and anxious when it came to competitions.

But he had hoped to have been able to at least talk to him. He had hoped that Yuuri would be happy, elated that Viktor was here to fulfill his request.

He had hoped that the man he saw behind glasses of champagne was the real Yuuri, unburdened by the worries and stressors of competition.

Apparently Viktor was wrong.

And if Viktor was wrong about this, then what else had he been wrong about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I'm still working on how I characterize Viktor, and the level of English proficiency the rest of the Katsuki family has. (I.e. the reason why their interaction was so limited in this chapter). In terms of Viktor, I think I'm starting to create a 'realistic' version of him, but hopefully as time passes it will get easier.
> 
> Poor Viktor, he finally see's the man of his literal dreams and not only does he proceed to insult him, but also to practically sexually harass poor Yuuri into running away. Poor, dumb, dumb child. 
> 
> Hopefully during the next major chapter I'll be able to lighten things up. These last few chapters have been a bit too serious...  
> 7/27


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